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and walked it back. He did not care what anyone thought now. Every man who had ever fought at all understood what his condition must be. To walk the horse might gain him a minute or two of rest, and that might gain him a victory. He was so close now. When he reached down to take the lance Owain held, he shook his head slightly. The squire could not have looked more worshipfully at God. And he has served with me long enough to know better, Ian thought. Nonetheless, even though he knew better himself, it was a spur to his pride. No matter how foolish, it was a more cogent reason to succeed than all the real good that might be accomplished by a successful run. |
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Ian fewtered his spear and, quite deliberately, allowed his shield to tip inward, as if his arm was too weary to hold it straight. This was near to the truth, but not quite true. He knew his left leg was beyond use to brace him. Thus, he could not endure the full impact of a tilting lance. He could only use the desperate device Simon had once shown him. He could hear the rich bass voice. |
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''Only if your arm be broken or your collarbone, and you cannot hold any blow off with the shield. Then, when the lance strikes, you must twist so, and lift your right elbow out so, and then, if the shield swing free enough and your timing is very nice, very nice, indeed, then the lance will slip off between your body and your right arm. Of course, if your timing is not so nice, you will have your belly ripped open or your right arm torn off. It is not a device I would recommend. In war, if death be the only other way, a man might use itI have. In a tourney, better, far better, take your fall and pay your ransom; you can afford it." |
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Only the ransom to be paid this time was too highKing John's gloating satisfaction, the light in his squire's eyes, a whole day of battering and torment gone for nothing, Alinor's safety, or if not hers, that of |
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